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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736271">The Smart Thing To Do</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToiletPaperPrincess/pseuds/ToiletPaperPrincess'>ToiletPaperPrincess</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reader-Insert Shenanigans [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkward Sexual Situations, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Humor, Other, Reader-Insert, Robot/Human Relationships, Touching, and once again it's all appetizer and no entree...so to speak, literally not emotionally</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:02:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToiletPaperPrincess/pseuds/ToiletPaperPrincess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which K-2 is condescendingly intellectual and intellectually curious, and feeling stupid never felt so good.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>K-2SO/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reader-Insert Shenanigans [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/662609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Smart Thing To Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>…I WANT to be embarrassed by this, if only because a couple of mutuals follow me here, but honestly…I have to admit this is hardly that much more embarrassing than anything else I’ve already posted here  :’D</p><p>So, this one’s for all the desperate under-served robotfuckers out there (even though, true to form, I cut away before any actual fuckery).  And mutuals, if you’re scarred for life, it’s your own damn fault for reading it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You kissed him.</p><p>It was stupid, because he didn’t have a mouth, but you kissed him.</p><p>The metal of his face was smooth, hard, but not slick. Not until you smeared your saliva onto it, anyways. Surprisingly warm. You only noticed when you let go and your lips tasted the cold, stale air instead.</p><p>You didn’t look the droid in the eyes. Not that there was anything you could read there. You just gasped for breath, moved your hands from a gentle grip on the sides of his face to a more desperate grasp around the back of his head, and kissed him again.</p><p>You weren’t sure whether he was leaning into it or if it was his naturally hunched posture, hunched further from sitting in an unfortunately small chair just across from where you sat on the edge of your bunk. But his head was moving. Very slightly. Yours tilted in some unconscious attempt to deepen the kiss (<em>ridiculous</em>), and his tilted, perhaps curiously, in the same direction. You automatically tilted in the opposite direction, opening wider, pressing harder. K-2 tilted in the same direction. You tilted in the opposite. Then K-2 tilted in the opposite, but he pulled too far back and you fell away.</p><p>You were breathless, panting. Staring at him now, staring blankly down at you. It was stupid. It shouldn’t have felt like anything. You might as well have been smearing your lips across the side of a toaster. And yet...and <em>yet...</em></p><p>“Your body heat is rising,” K-2 said flatly, but with his head cocked curiously to the side. He pointed down at the space between your legs. “Down there.”</p><p>Apparently he wasn’t content with just pointing, and his fingers began to trace down the seam of your pants.</p><p>“So that’s where your reproductive organs are?”</p><p>Your whole body tensed, but you didn’t resist his touch. He slid further down, under, between your body and the sheets...</p><p>“I—I guess so.” A stupid answer.</p><p>K-2 scoffed. “You’re really not <em>sure?</em>”</p><p>A hard metal finger twitched against you. You twitched, too.</p><p>And then all of a sudden you were pulling his hand away, guiding it up, pressing it gently to your chest. Right over your pounding heart. Surely <em>that</em> was why you’d done it. Covering his hand with yours, fingers over fingers, thumb over thumb, squeezing into the fabric and the flesh below to try to still the beat, guiding the rigid thumb into stroking circles over the sudden protrusion of your nipple. You were short of breath now, too. Panting. Pressing the hand ever more firmly into you, appreciating the subtle, tickling movements it was starting to make of its own accord. Unconsciously bending so far forward, curling your torso protectively over that hand, that your forehead bumped against the droid’s solid metal jaw. Stupid, stupid, stupid.</p><p>“That escalated quickly,” K-2 noted.</p><p>He folded up his knees on either side of you, pulling the chair closer, knocking against the edge of the bed, hand pushing against you as he closed the gap and pushing you slightly upright. His fingers curled out from under yours to grip your side steadyingly as you threatened to topple over.</p><p>“Is that normal?”</p><p>Your head whipped up. “Huh?”</p><p>K-2 had jerked back slightly to avoid another collision, but still your faces were close, <em>so</em> close, just a breath of air between you and the flat black surface and impassive pinpricks of light.</p><p>“The rate at which your...‘excitement’ is progressing,” he went on. His lamp eyes flicked briefly down again. Thermal imaging must have shown you lit up like an active volcano. “Is that normal? Or are you particularly...”</p><p>The long hand still half over your chest squeezed in emphasis, thumb stroking roughly across the nipple. You shuddered.</p><p>“...‘user-friendly’?”</p><p>You desperately wanted to kiss him again. You didn’t. Could he see it in your eyes? Did he <em>care?</em></p><p>“<em>Well?</em>”</p><p>The question hadn’t been hypothetical?</p><p>Oh...of course. He really didn’t <em>know</em>.</p><p>“D-dunno.”</p><p>...Apparently, neither did <em>you</em>.</p><p>K-2’s head bobbed slightly, unblinking gaze trailing up and down your trembling body, examining your posture, movements, breathing, likely even other cues, from all angles. This wasn’t just idle curiosity. He was <em>studying</em> you.</p><p>“There are an alarming number of gaps in your knowledge,” you realized he was saying. But this wasn’t a coldly scientific statement, there was a sarcastic <em>bite</em> to it. “It’s amazing you Organics can get anything done when you have such a poor understanding of your own bodies.”</p><p>You winced. He noticed. If he’d had a mouth, it might have been smirking.</p><p>Then his hand lifted from your side.</p><p>Then both hands touched down flat against you, fingers tightening around your armpits, and he stroked firmly down. You squirmed in his grip. He explored the whole length of your torso, over every bump and ridge, pressing just hard enough <em>not</em> to hurt. There was a dangerous moment at your hips when his thumbs strayed back toward the dip of your crotch, then they slid away over your spread legs, pressing your thighs deep into the mattress.</p><p>You gripped his own hard, smooth legs for support, focused on your breathing.</p><p>The hands let go.</p><p>Then they returned, clamping to your sides this time, and stroked again—firm, purposeful, as if simply smoothing out the wrinkles in your clothing. This time the rigid thumbs pressed into your thighs while the long fingers caressed grooves into your ass.</p><p>You let out a soft, muffled yelp. You twitched.</p><p>K-2 made no noise, no motion you noticed. But he did slide back up and stroke over that section again.</p><p>Stupid. <em>Stupid</em>. <em>That’s </em>what he was doing, wasn’t it? Most likely he couldn’t feel the texture of your clothing, the warmth and volume of the body below it. Certainly he wasn’t getting hot or dizzy over it. He was mapping you, noting areas of sensitivity, modulating pressure based on your reactions.</p><p>You wanted to be offended. You wanted to slap him.</p><p>Then—hands under your ass—K-2 swiftly pulled you off the bed, into the chair, into his lap, your hips between his legs and his hips between yours—pressed you fully against him—began the full-body stroke again with his hands on your back, fingertips digging into the curve of your spine, fondling all the way down—and you found your arms wrapped around his back while you pressed moaning kisses down his front.</p><p>
  <em>Stupid.</em>
</p><p>The sensual drag of his fingers under your ass and down the back of your thigh was just too much. Your tongue lapped desperately up his metal chest, longing for another warm tongue to meet it. You immediately regretted it, gagging and coughing at the taste.</p><p>K-2 had stopped. You’d felt him jerk as if in surprise at your first retch. His hand was threaded through your hair now, cradling the back of your skull, pressing you into his torso even as you tried to turn away, to cough in another direction.</p><p>“You are <em>quite</em> ridiculous,” he said at last. As if you didn’t know. “It seems you really <em>do</em> need my assistance.”</p><p>He didn’t wait for an answer. Just slipped his hand down toward your crotch again.</p><p>...This time, his fingers slid under your waistband.</p><p>“<em>Wait</em>,” you gasped.</p><p>He did. You weren’t sure if he technically “had” to or not. You weren’t sure how he worked. You weren’t sure of <em>anything</em>.</p><p>“Would you rather do it yourself?”</p><p>Now <em>that</em> surprised you. Your head shot up and K-2 didn’t react fast enough this time. You headbutted him in the chin and winced.</p><p>The droid’s face, when both of you craned far enough back for you to see it (you still hugged awkwardly against him), was unreadable as ever. “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed,” he said in mock petulance.</p><p>“<em>What?</em>” you said.</p><p>“It’s predictably irrational of you, of course. To stubbornly refuse my help even though you’re so obviously ineffectual on your own.”</p><p>You winced <em>again.</em></p><p>“That’s only because you—” you complained...and then stopped.</p><p>Sure, this whole thing had started with K-2 flinging open your door—no knocking—and striding into your room as you sputtered and swore and struggled gracelessly to yank your hand out of your pants, to which he had responded with potentially sarcastic offense and apparently genuine confusion. Then some combination of heat signature or subtle smells must have clicked into memories of encountering other humans similarly frustrated or satisfied, and vague unexplained remarks that must have been difficult to parse for an inorganic creature without any personal context for them. “Were you having <em>sex?</em>” he had finally asked, sounding incredulous. “Having <em>sex,</em> in <em>here</em>, all by <em>yourself?</em>”</p><p>He had even pulled up a chair as if to sit and watch.</p><p>So of course, K-2’s perception of your success rate had been formed around an incident in which the sudden screeching halt had been the fault of his own interruption.</p><p>But...</p><p>You had never <em>totally</em> been...when you’d done it by yourself...</p><p>You’d never really...</p><p>You’d always...</p><p>...It was totally stupid.</p><p>
  <em>But.</em>
</p><p>“...Would you?”</p><p>It was little more than a whisper.</p><p>K-2’s response was less constrained. “I <em>offered</em>, didn’t I? Besides,”—and you could practically <em>hear</em> the thickly dripping sarcasm—“we droids <em>live</em> to serve.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(…I’ll be honest, I’m mostly posting this for the "Were you having sex? Having sex, in here, all by yourself?” line  X’D )</p><p>Originally I was gonna take this further (albeit vaguely written and/or gender-neutral), but after I wrote that last bit I really liked that as an ending X’D  So like, absolutely no promises, not a single promise, but feel free to subscribe just in case I ever write a second chapter.</p><p>In the meantime, if you have stereotypically feminine anatomy, this fic is real explicit and real good and heavily influenced my characterization of K: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23866036</p></blockquote></div></div>
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